


The Tool Shed

by Thatkindghost



Category: Sherlock Gnomes (2018)
Genre: F/M, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, Multi, OT4, tybalt is dead
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-05
Updated: 2018-10-05
Packaged: 2019-07-25 11:18:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16196480
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thatkindghost/pseuds/Thatkindghost
Summary: Gnomeo refuses to admit he liked Sherlock, Juliet and Watson cheerfully help them by "accidentally" getting them locked in the tool shed together, for the night.This work is a Sherlock/Watson/Juliet/Gnomeo ship fic, they are all together and dating each other. the OT4 is endgame.





	The Tool Shed

**Author's Note:**

> Watched Sherlock Gnomes, loved it, wrote this. Enjoy!  
> pg-13 (some kissing, but nothing more. they are /garden gnomes/ after all.)

So Gnomeo didn’t get along with Sherlock, who cares? It’s not like he was mean to the guy- not after Juliet reminded him how he almost sacrificed his life to save them from Moriarty, or how even if he’s the biggest prick this side of London, he still helped when no one else was capable. after the camaraderie from the final fight wore off, Gnomeo found him just as irritating as he was before, he didn’t hate him or anything, he just wasn’t someone Gnomeo was really intent on like, hanging out with anytime at all ever maybe. He… he respected him. that works, right? It has to count for something?

Except Juliet gets all doe eyed when she talks about Sherlock sometimes, and yeah maybe that makes him just a teensy bit ~~envious~~ jealous, and occasionally he’ll jump the fence when he sees him coming his way but that’s just what he does, casually! It’s not a panic reaction or an avoidance tactic, no matter what John says with that amused smirk, and that’s that. Except now Juliet was going from doe eyed to annoyed, lip quirking downward when he scoffs at the other man's name, and the more standoffish he gets about the detective, Juliet meets him with a wall of frustration.

“You’ll like him if you get to know him!” She insists, stabbing up leaves with one of the pointy hatted gnomes.

“I got to know him plenty well before the whole saving our life deal,” Gnomeo retorts, helping her, “we weren’t the best of friends then either, need I remind you. We’re civil, isn’t that enough?”

She stabs her improv gnome rake into the ground, turning to face him, “He’s just… He and John, they’re good, Gnomeo. We’d be good together.”

“Oh, Johns the best.” He replies automatically, smiling fondly and he sets his own gnome aside, leaning on him, “... We do make a pretty sweet team huh?”

Juliet’s face falls, “A team. Right. That’s what I meant.” She grabs the gnome back up by his ankles, gets right back to work, “Just… Try a little harder, please? For me?”

“Anything for you.” He brushes his hand across her shoulder and sees the curl of a smile on her lips, If it was really this important to her that he get along with Gnomes, he’d put in a little more effort. Piece of cake.

Except apparently he was moving too slow for Juliet’s taste, so she locked them in the tool shed for the night. She tries to play it off like an accident, of course, and ‘forgets’ to warn them when Mr. Capulet comes to lock up for the night, but Gnomeo has been with Juliet for long enough to recognize one of her tricks.

“Just hang in there you two!” She calls through the tin door.

A beat passes.

“Is she actually looking for a key?” Gnomeo asks, surveying the dark corners of the shed for escape.

“Like she said she would? Of course not.” Sherlock mutters, ear pressed against the metal as he listened to the other side, “in fact, she’s eavesdropping on us right now.” He says simply, standing up straight and slamming his hand into the tin, causing a horrible _BANG_.

“Augh- okay okay! I’ll go look for real, jeez…” she’s muffled behind the door, trailing off as she gets further away.

“Hey could I have a crack at that?” Gnomeo asks over his shoulder, testing the walls at their seams for any give- this place was a dump before they moved in, it seriously didn’t have any water rot? No rat holes? Nothing???

“Maybe next time,” he braces himself against the wall, wobbling around the shed on the same hunt as Gnomeo, “She’s really gone off to look this time.”

“Why, cause her voice faded?”

“Her footsteps too, and I couldn’t hear the minuscule scrape of her dress like before. So she’s really gone.”

Gnomeo hums in response, there’s a not entirely uncomfortable silence as they probe around, “We’re trapped.” He announces simply, still scrutinizing the dark shadowy places where the moonlight doesn't reach, slanted and pillowy from a thin gap in the door frame, from the few glass window panes on the roof.

Sherlock ignores him, stumbling around to see for himself, “No signs of viable escape, Juliet must have put a lot of time into this scheme of hers. Looks like we’re stuck here.”

Gnomeo exhaled out of his nose once, hard, annoyance curling around his chest. He didn’t listen to anyone except maye Watson or Juliet, it drove Gnomeo up the wall. The blue gnome stomps around a little more, double checking the parameter not because he thought he may have missed something but more for something to do with his hands.

“Have you always resorted to anger in new situation?” Sherlock observes, limping along the side of a grey and worn tool box.

“What?” He frowns, turning to face him, “I don’t use anger as a crutch.”

“Then you have anger issues, whichever you prefer.” Sherlock waves his hand as if banishing the previously incorrect assumption.

“No I don’t- how would you know anyway?”

“There’s paint chipped off your hands, each time you made a fist you curled your fingers just right to wear them down to their base.” He says, lowering himself gingerly to the ground and kicking out his bad leg flat in front of him. He cursed his helplessness without Watson's cane- he’d dropped it in his haste to get into a hiding spot once they’d noticed humans coming, and it was still ruefully out of reach, closed away just behind the door.

“Are you- are you _analyzing me!?_ ” He gaped at him, offended. Sherlock knew nothing about him, and he thinks he could just… just make claims like that? Gnomeo would not stand for it!

Sherlock squints at him, “It’s in my nature.”

“Well stop it before I...” Gnomeo fumbles for words, a suitable threat, “before I do something I regret!”

Silence stretches. It makes Gnomeo entirely uncomfortable, his words ringing harshly in his ears, “...what, giving me the silent treatment now?” he tries.

Sherlock stays still for another moment, “It was my understanding you wanted me to be quiet.” He says finally.

“Wh- I didn’t mean that, not really. It’s- you were right, and I guess that kinda got under my skin. I’m sorry.” He hesitates, “You didn’t really think I would…?”

“You’re standing in the shadows. I can’t read your body language but, you’re tone was rather… serious.” The detective shifts, hollow terracotta scraping against concrete, “Don’t take it too personally, I’ve had many an ally turn on me before. It’s an occupational hazard I’ve come to expect.”

Gnomeo steps into the light, frowning, “I may not like you, but I wouldn’t actually hurt you, y’know? Im sure its a two way street, you don’t like me either-”

Sherlock pins him with a critical eye, lips pursing, “Who ever said I didn’t like you?”

He opens his mouth to retort but finds none waiting on his tongue, instead he _tapp tapps_ across the shed and sits next to Sherlock, almost but not quite content with the silence. He twiddles with his thumbs, stares absently as Sherlock rubs circles into the fracture across his thigh. It’s a dark mark, ugly across his thigh, peeks of white in the middle of the break. It reminds Gnomeo all at once of Tybalt's pieces, strewn haphazard and hellish across the pavement.

He looks away sharply.

There’s an absence of noise, Gnomeo’s sure Sherlock had seen his reaction, hand stilled and eyes razor pointed on the curve of his shoulders or the dip of his chin or something equally as meaningless yet important.

He hears him take a breath and decides to avoid the conversation they were about to have, “So you said you liked me.” he slips in before Sherlock can pop open that can of worms, turning back to face him.

His eyes spark a little, Gnomeo knows he's been caught in his diversion though he doesn’t comment on it, “I never said that.”

Gnomeo crosses his legs, settling his chin in the palm of his hand, “So what are you saying then?”

“Nothing incriminating, I hope.” He smiles wryly, leaning back fully against the tool box he’d chosen as his chair, “Now come on, Gnomeo, you must have learned something from watching my genius. What can _you_ deduce about my feelings for you?”

He sighs, flops sideways until he’s laying on his side, “I can deduce that you like to annoy me.”

Sherlock shrugs, “A little vague, but a good jumping off point.”

He thinks for about two seconds longer before sighing loudly, “This is pointless! Why can’t you just tell me what you want me to know?” he gripes, rolling onto his back and throwing his arms out.

“Now where’s the fun in that?” He mutters, drawing his good leg up to cross his arms on top, leaning forward to peer down at him.

“Just forget I asked.” Gnomeo mutters, getting back to his feet to try the door again.

Sherlock rolls his eyes so hard Gnomeo is pretty sure he can hear it, “Gnomeo! Don’t go brood, come back.”

“And why should I?” he most certainly does not pout, no matter what Sherlock says later.

“How about we make a deal, a question for a question? You can ask me any question you like, the only catch being I get to do the same.” He quirks a brow.

“...that could work.” Gnomeo nods, coming back over to sit against the tool box again.

“You first.”

His eyebrows draw in, “Why haven’t you tried to come up with something to get us out of here?”

Sherlock blinks, turning to scrutinize him, “Any question you want and that’s the one you choose to ask?”

He shrugs “It’s been nagging at me.”

“Fair enough. As for my passive attitude… well, Juliet is a woman on a mission. Resistance if futile and all that.” He looks away, “And I’m not exactly at my best.” He says, fingers still on his injury.

“Okay. uh, your turn.”

Sherlock swings his head around to face him again, cogs turning as he tries to figure out the best question to ask, “Your anger has led to tragedy before, why do you still let it rule you?” he could read between the lines, easily, and figuring out what had happened in the past had been too easy almost. Now Sherlock had the chance to ask what he'd always wanted to know.

Gnomeo clams up, defenses raised, “I…” He swallows, “Tybalt hurt Benny. I couldn’t just… let it go.”

“So it was justice?” Sherlock tipped his head to the side, staring at him like he was working out the answer to a particularly hard puzzle, Gnomeo didn’t dwell on how important the look made him feel.

He looks away, “It… was revenge.” He admits, “But it got out of hand, we were fighting- he wrecked the lawn mower and he…”

“Oh.” Sherlock says, softly, “He was broken past repair?”

Gnomeo looks down at his paint chipped fingers, “Every time they put him back together, he slowly started to come apart again. All the king's horses and all the king's men…” He mutters.

“Why then, let it consume you still? Your fight with Juliet when we first met…” He trails off, prompting Gnomeo to pick it up.

To his surprise, Gnomeo shrugs, “I don’t know why. It’s not something I always relied on- when I was younger I was reckless, and lawn mower racing was as dangerous as it could get, but once things started to actually matter to me I used to just get mad when things went wrong- I’ve been trying to work on it, but I slip up sometimes. I know it’s a problem, It just hurts to acknowledge it sometimes.”

A silence. “I think it’s your turn.” Sherlock prods.

Gnomeo’s eyes trail across the ground until they land on Sherlocks leg, edges of the crack peeking out between his fingers, “Does it hurt?” He asks, before he can think better of it.

“Yes.” Sherlock responds instantly, though amends a second later, “Not always, but sometimes- like when I try to move like I used to, or when I put too much weight on it.”

“What does it feel like?” He asks softly.

Sherlock locks eyes with Gnomeo, smile tight, “It’s a deep ache, sometimes. Other times its like I’m burning.”

“I’m sorry.” he doesn’t know why he's apologizing, it just feels like the proper thing to do.

“What are your feelings towards me?” Sherlock responds.

“What?”  
  
“It’s my turn, so what are your feelings towards me?” he reiterates, peeking at him through the corner of his eye.

Gnomeo shrugs on instinct, “... think you’re pretty smart, I guess?”

“Flattering.”

“Well I don’t know!” He grouches, “I think you’re cool, okay? And I admire your brains and your heart. I really respect how you help gnomes even though you don't have to, You're a good guy, even if you're irritating as hell, and I guess I... like you.” And well, Maybe Gnomeo had been playing up his dislike of Sherlock before- but feelings can be stressful and maybe Gnomeo likes the familiarity of _dislike_.

Sherlock is smiling thin and sly, eyes dancing with mirth, “I take it back,” Gnomeo comments dryly, “I don’t like you at all.”

Sherlock shakes his head fondly, smiling confidently even when Gnomeo turns the question around on him, “You know how I feel about you Gnomeo? I think you’re fantastic, on par with Watson and Juliet, I think.

Gnomeo thinks he’s pretty lucky gnomes can’t blush, “Why?” He all but squeaks.

“You’re brave, strong, passionate- and you want to do better, do you know how extraordinary that is? That you can face your flaw and recognize the need to grow? It says a lot about a man, Gnomeo, and it's all good things.” Sherlock nods as if it were obvious.

Gnomeo smiles at him warmly, Sherlock matches the look with one of is own.

“Gnomeo, are you aware of the game they’re playing?” Sherlock asks.

“The one where Juliet and John force us to be friends?”

Sherlock shakes his head, “The one where Juliet and John force us to be more than friends.”

Gnomeo blanches, “What?” and really, his throat was getting all high a squeaky way too much today.

“They think we would be good together.”

“Juliet wants to break up with me?” his eyebrows draw in, up, puppy dog eyes going comically round.

Sherlock reaches over and pats his shoulder, hand resting on the junction between his vest and short sleeve shirt, “Not quite, my friend. They think we would all be good together, the four of us.”

“They said that to you?” Gnomeo flashes back to his talk with his girlfriend earlier that month, Sherlocks words echoing hers.

The detective pins him with a confident smirk, fingertips squeezing, “They didn’t have to.” Right, because analyzing Juliet was like shooting a fish in a barrel with the way she wore her heart on her sleeve, and John was more of an open book now than ever, once he and Sherlock had put their relationship back together.

“Oh.”

Sherlock quirks a brow, “You don’t seem put off by the idea.”

“Well, I mean…” Gnomeo swallows and runs a hand across the back of his neck awkwardly, “John is a very handsome man, you know, and you’re not half bad yourself…”

“There’s more to a relationship than physical attraction.” Sherlock notes.

“I literally not five minutes ago told you how much I liked you.” Gnomeo shrugs, “Besides, physical attraction is also pretty important.”

Sherlock nods, hand trailing down from it’s spot on his shoulder to lay quietly on top of Gnomeos own fingers, “Well in that case, I think you’re very handsome too.”

“Watson’s really helping you come out of your shell, huh?” Gnomeo smiles,  turning his hand over to hold sherlocks lightly.

“He says it’s important to tell people how I feel, show my appreciation and all that.” Sherlock leans in slowly, “Don’t look now, but Juliet and John are on the roof, watching us. I think they’re waiting for us to kiss.”

Gnomeo looks up anyway, Watches the two gnomes above them duck their heads sheepishly. Juliet makes a ‘go-on!’ motion with her hand once she recovers from her embarrassment and Gnomeo shakes his head fondly, when he looks back down Sherlock closes the distance between them and kisses him. It’s light, the only sound a slight scrape of their lips from first impact. Gnomeo cups Sherlocks jaw, thumbing over the curved edge. Sherlock reaches up to smooth his palm against the stripe of skin between Gnomeos hair and the collar of his shirt, fingers firm on the back of his neck.

Watson wolf whistles and Gnomeo laughs into the kiss, feeling Sherlock smiling along with him.

The break away, looking at each other warmly. Gnomeo leans back to peer up at the two again in time to see Juliet let go of Watson's face, parting from their own kiss. He doesn’t feel a rush of envy or jealousy like he had before because… well, what was there to be jealous over? They all had each other, he wasn’t losing anyone at all. “Can you let us out now?” He calls up, smiling and a little doe eyed.

Juliet clasps her hands together, “About that…” She says.

“We’re really locked in, aren’t we?” Sherlock guesses immediately.

“For the rest of the night,” Watson confirms.

“Oh what a shame,” Gnomeo complains, without any of the bite, “Sherlock and I, separated from everyone else, whatever shall we do?”

“Hey!” Juliet gripes, “No more kissing without us!”

“Truly a tragedy,” Sherlock laments, pulling Gnomeo down by the collar of his shirt to press another kiss to his lips, “We’ll go mad with boredom!”

Watson rolls his eyes, kicking up the edge of the window and reaches out to hold Juliet by the waist, using his grappling hook cane to catch them as they fall through, lowering the two of them to the floor.

“Warn a gal, could ya?” Juliet mutters, stumbling to the ground first.

“Next time.” He nods.

“We could use the grappling cane to get out of here.” Sherlock suggests, obviously.

“Then we would all be outside, not locked in here, _together_.” Watson says with a pointed look.

Juliet was approaching them eagerly and Sherlock laughs, “Remind me to never doubt you, Watson.”

“Anytime.”

**Author's Note:**

> *cracks open a sparkling water* haha yeah


End file.
